


reassurance

by Jupiter117



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Camping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Modern Era, Winter, Witchers are Still Witchers, and geralt is very soft ok, jaskier is very talkative, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter117/pseuds/Jupiter117
Summary: “I knew we should have gone to the coast instead.”They’d gone camping plenty of times before--but not during a snowstorm. To be fair, that was often a byproduct of Geralt himself. His experience with the mountains combined with his heightened senses allowed him to know when was a good time to go up and when wasn’t. This storm, however, had simply come on far too quickly for them to do much about.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112





	reassurance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bean_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_writes/gifts).



“I knew we should have gone to the coast instead.”

Jaskier knew he was being annoying. He’d not stopped prattling on for the past half hour as he and Geralt had searched for a cave to hole up in for the night--and had only kept mostly quiet the half hour _before_ that because they’d both been struggling against the wind whipping through the mountains to set up their tent. In his opinion, he was allowed to be annoying, since Geralt had quite thoroughly shot down his idea of a vacation near the sea in favor of camping out in the Kestrel Mountains.

They’d gone camping plenty of times before--but not during a snowstorm. To be fair, that was often a byproduct of Geralt himself. His experience with the mountains combined with his heightened senses allowed him to know when was a good time to go up and when wasn’t. This storm, however, had simply come on far too quickly for them to do much about. 

They’d have left completely, if Geralt’s faithful old pickup truck, Roach, hadn’t gone and refused to start up when they’d tried to retreat. 

So here they were. 

“I mean, really,” Jaskeir continued. “I know that you prefer the mountains, but I’ll drag you to the ocean _some_ day, just you watch me.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s gruff voice cut him off from his, admittedly, whining. “The fire?” He waved towards a ring of rocks, where Jasker was supposed to be placing kindling and logs down. With a little hum, he stepped forward to get back to work on that, kneeling on the cold cave stone and arranging the wood. Drawing his lighter from his pack, he cupped his hand around some of the kindle, coaxing the testing flames into something stronger, more durable. 

Outside, the wind continued to howl, spitting snow and sleet angrily. They had enough supplies to last for at least two weeks, if everything was spread thin and rationed--Geralt always made sure to bring extras of everything. Plus, Yennefer and Eskel were both aware of where they were going. Jaskier tended to call Geralt paranoid for things like that, but he was starting to really see the benefits of those preparations. 

With a hum, Geralt finished setting up the tent, a safe distance from the fire but close enough that they’d get at least some of the heat once the rest of the cave had warmed. At least they’d have somewhere protected from the wind, and doubly so. 

Pulling his cell from his jeans, Jaskier checked the service. “Ugh. Still no bars.” As if there had been any since they’d left the last campground behind on the way up here. He had all faith in Yennefer, he did--but it still wasn’t the most pleasant situation to be stuck in. 

“Come on,” Geralt sighed, sitting down beside the fire and rummaging through his pack. From it, he produced a wrapped sub sandwich, which he split in half and offered to Jaskier when the other man settled beside him. “We’ll be fine. Don’t think it’ll last that long.” 

“Mhm, like how you didn’t think there’d be a storm in the first place,” he teased. He took the sandwich and bit into it with a sigh, inching his feet a little closer to the flames for the heat to soak into his sneakers. “At least it will make an interesting story.”

“Don’t turn this into a song.”

“No promises.” 

Geralt’s resigned huff made Jaskier laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. He supposed that it was alright for the man to criticize his music. He was a prominent musician, both on his own and on social media--and his big takeoff had been from a song he’d made about Geralt after seeing the way people treated him. It was true that monster hunters weren’t as needed as they used to be, but that didn’t give people the right to be such dicks to them. Especially considering it hadn’t been that long ago that witcher schools had received funding from the government themselves--and had only reached the point of collapse after a few hatred based attacks and demands. Things he’d learned about in old, dusty history books, sure, but really not that long ago at all. 

His witcher friend hadn’t been all that enthused about it, but it had worked. Jaskier had rocketed into internet fame (and infamy, to some) and Geralt received better treatment than he ever had. So had his brothers, if what Geralt had said over their friendship was anything to go off of. That was another thing on Geralt-based-bucket-list: vacation together at the ocean, meet his brothers, and actually visit Kaer Morhen. Along with various… _Other_ items on the list. Things that were much more carnal, _intimate_ in nature. 

But enough about that.

Like usual, Jaskier rattled on about his latest project as they ate, not needing Geralt’s words to carry on the conversation by himself. If nothing else, he insisted, this would certainly make a good story to tell the internet. Though in true Jaskier nature, he had half the details tweaked by the end of it, so the story was nigh unrecognizable. 

“I’m just saying, it’s not clickbait if it’s in the story,” he pointed out. “If you claim you were attacked by a panther and tell the story that you were licked by your cat, that’s clickbait, because those don’t align. However! If I claim we were stranded for two weeks up here, and then I tell the story of it being two weeks long--not clickbait!”

He wasn’t expecting any reply. And true to form, he didn’t get any.

They finished their sandwiches soon and Jaskier, at last, fell quiet. He tugged his coat tighter around his shoulders, then stretched his hands towards the fire. Despite all the jokes, there was a certain fear in knowing that, depending on what the mountain wanted to do with them, they could be stuck here for much longer than the few days they were planning. And with the quiet between them, the howl of the wind outside, and the fire’s crackle missing its usual cheerful tone, Jaskier found uncertainty--and even fear--close in around him. 

“Geralt?” he eventually said, working to keep his voice level. He felt the witcher’s gaze turn to him, molten gold, but kept his own eyes on the burning wood. “We’re going to be alright. ...Right?”

Geralt was quiet for a long time. Again, Jaskier didn’t think he’d really get an answer, so he wasn’t surprised when his friend stood instead. But--in the next moment, Geralt’s hand came into his vision and he had to look up, blinking at the silent offer. With a swallow, he laid his hand into his and let Geralt pull him to his feet, hardly showing any sort of effort for it, despite Jaskier not exactly being a small man. 

Their hands fell apart but when Geralt stepped into the tent, he held the flap open for Jaskier to follow--which, of course, he did willingly. They stripped out of their puffy coats and changed into the pajamas they had packed. But, when Jaskier went to spread his sleeping roll, Geralt stopped him with a shake of his head. 

“It’s too cold,” the witcher explained. “We’ll share.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a sleeping bag, of course. With how much Geralt traveled the Continent with Jaskier trailing along behind him, there had been nights when they’d been stranded, or it had been too dark to travel, or someone was injured--really, there had been a lot of incidents over the years. So he tried not to get himself too worked up about it as he nodded and slipped inside, settling on his side. Geralt slid in behind him, his chest a wall of heat against his back. It took a lot of self control for Jaskier not to wiggle back into him, seeking both that touch and that warmth. 

A handful of minutes passed, where Jaskier wasn’t sure if Geralt simply fell asleep fast tonight, or was simply happy enough to indulge in the silence. In fact, he was almost calmed down enough himself to sleep when Geralt’s voice came, rumbling through his chest and reverberating into Jaskier’s back. 

“We’ll be fine,” the witcher said. Another moment, and then Geralt’s arm slid over Jaskier’s waist, holding him in close. It sent the musician’s heart thumping, rabbit-quick; his eyes stared at the flickering shadows of the fire outside the tent walls. If Geralt could hear it, could feel it--which he undoubtedly could--then he chose not to say anything about it. “The storm should be over by morning. The clouds weren’t heavy enough for more than twelve hours or so.” The arm cinched a little tighter around him. “Don’t get yourself worked up about it, or you’ll give yourself wrinkles. Then I’d never hear the end of it.” That was _definitely_ a smile in his voice, whether Geralt wanted to admit to it or not. “We’ll be alright.”

Tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding in his body drained out of him, leaving him loose and still for once. “Okay,” he said, relief washing through him. Warmth bloomed in his chest; despite all the blankets, the tent, the fire, and Geralt behind him, it had nothing to do with any actual heat sources nearby. “Alright. Goodnight, Geralt.”

Yes, there was absolutely a smile in his friend’s voice when he replied. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

So he did. He closed his eyes and drifted off, trusting Geralt to their safety. And if their embrace followed him into his dreams? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come send some requests/prompts to my tumblr, [here!](https://briar-bunny.tumblr.com)


End file.
